Gaia's Entry

I don’t smoke But, by gods  if you pleaded  I’d light twenty for you. 

my hands are burnt around the edges,  red and pulsing with a raging desire.  I gladly welcome its searing pleasure each time I rinse the metal in  tandem with the wand.  Steam, rinse, burn, repeat.  Steam, rinse, burn, repeat, steam, rinse, burn,  repeat.  steam,                                        rinse,              burn, repeat. Steam rinse burn burn buRN BURN BURN                                                    BURN. burn. repeat.  steam, rinse, burn. It burns —it hurts. 

It took me a long time to understand the dissatisfaction I felt when words came with praise.  it wasn’t that my life lacked affection and nourishment, it was that i never sought to believe them. it never brought me happiness nor unhappiness, it was more like these feelings of inadequacy it brought— became alibis for my weaknesses. I never found comfort in words that are meant to bring such joy to oneself. For I was ignorant of what I had done to earn such a thing, — what good deed had I done to earn such sweet lipped words? I hadn't outstretched my hand to be better than others, there wasn’t any reason for me too.  I played the jester, a lowly fool,  who had the inability to realize the mockery I made of myself.